Simple Theory
by TaciteMuse
Summary: Breaking the laws of physics was as easy as breathing for her. [Sam ficlets]
1. Unexpected

**Title: **Unexpected

**Rating: **G

**Summary: **Even off-world she's a sucker for horses. Hey look- a unicorn!

Author's Note: Hello! This is TaciteMuse, welcoming you to _Simple Theory_; my Samantha Carter ficlet collection. I'll be posting my short pieces here as they are written.

This was based on the idea that Sam is as horse-mad as I am, and given the fact that there appear to be horses offworld, why not unicorns?

**----**

Daniel stared after her, jaw working silently. Teal'c blinked calmly and looked at his teammate with a hint of curiosity.

"Is it not customary for there to be a relationship between young Tau'ri women and the domesticated equine?" His question went unanswered as Jack rocked back on his heels and watched his second in command nearly squeal with excitement, settling down as soon as the horse trader began talking.

"Did you know that Sam had a thing for horses?" He fingered the P90 gently as the blonde figure disappeared among the milling four footed creatures, only to reappear seconds later, still deep in conversation.

"Noooo… never had a chance to ask…" The archeologist replied, still trying to work out the puzzle in his mind. Near the herd, Carter gestured sharply and patted the gleaming bay who was nudging her shoulder, heedless of the gun slung on her shoulder.

"What d'ya think she's doing?" Their leader asked. "I hope she knows we can't bring it home with us…" Even as he spoke, Sam swung up bareback onto the equine and grabbed the makeshift reins, urging it forward. With a snort the bay leapt eagerly into a trot, then canter, it's rider staying effortlessly onboard.

"Wow…" Daniel murmured, watching her fly over the grass.

"Yeah." Jack agreed, wondering at this newfound talent of his companion.

--

The iris 'whirred' open and SGC stood waiting to greet their wayward travelers. General Hammond watched expectantly as the blue pool of 'water' shimmered and broke.

_Clang. Clang. Clang._

The entire whole of Stargate Command stared as Jack stepped aside, making room for the horned equine that whickered, glancing at the woman who grinned at it's shoulder. Teal'c and Daniel slipped unobtrusively in as the wormhole disengaged- no one spoke as O'Neill looked up to Hammond.

"It followed us home?"


	2. High Heels, High HELL

**Title:** High Heels, High HELL

**Rating: **PG

**Summary:** So she rants about shoewear.

**---- **

She never, _never_ understood what the woman who had invented these things had been on. They hurt her feet, they screwed her balance _royally_, and put her at a good four inches above the average man.

Yes, high heels were _definitely_ not her favorite shoes.

Now, you could give her combat boots any day, and she'd be fine. Those were sturdy, dependable, and, most of all, she could freely kick ass in them. Literally or figuratively, it didn't matter.

But these shoes- these contraptions of pure _torture_- prevented her from being able to do that. Though, on second thought, she really shouldn't ever need to do that when she was wearing them. After all, there was no Goa'uld who was going to be able to find her, come 3 AM, in a restaurant or drinking.

Not that she drank much. You couldn't be sure when Earth would get tossed into the next crisis.

Actually, there was one little gray person who would be able to find her. But she crossed her fingers and hoped Thor didn't need any more 'stupid ideas'. (She had resented that, at least until she got to blow up their biggest ship. Had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was named 'The O'Neill'. Nope. Absolutely not.)

She would _never_ see what good it did the women of Earth to wear such things.

Then again…

Someone was following her. Sam resisted the urge to turn around and deck him- after all, the man could just be walking home from the bar like she was. Why was she wearing high heels again? Oh right… Kathy had won their bet. Damn. She couldn't _fight_ in high heels.

So she hung a left, into a street with more lights. The drunk followed. As she was considering her options, she felt a heavy hand fall on her shoulder.

That _does _it.

"Heh heh. Pretty little girl." The slobbering guy drooled as, very calmly, she flicked his hand off and turned around. Unfortunately for him, he took that as an invitation to try and grope her front.

Which Sam took exception to.

Five seconds later he was down on the ground, curled in a fetal position around what would be very, _very_ tender in the morning- if it was ever the same again. Ignoring him for a moment, she took off a shoe and studied the delicate heel with admiration.

On second thought, she could very well see why people wore these.

So, appreciative of the _lovely _effect they had had on her stalker, she slipped off the other one and walked home, barefoot.

_Mental note to self: High heels aren't so bad._


	3. Peace

**Title:** Peace

**Rating: **PG

**Summary:** And wasn't it ironic?

It had to pop up at least once, y'know.

**---- **

"You know, it's incredible." Sam threw the magazine on the couch cushion, eyes on the TV; another image of burning buildings and people trapped in the rubble was flashing on the screen.

"What?" He glanced up, looking from her to the video of bombings.

"Our planet has come _this close _to near destruction everyday in a _universal_ war… and yet we can't even keep the peace back home." She watched for a moment more, then changed the channel.

"Is this why you don't leave the Base on vacation days much?" Daniel asked, eyeing her broken leg. Sam nodded and sighed.

"It's not much of a rest and relaxation if all I hear about is who's killing who."

They sat in silence for the rest of the hour, watching Big Bird and Elmo with grateful relief.


	4. Widow's Watch

**Title:** Widow's Watch

**Rating: **G

**Summary:** Waiting was always the hardest part of being left behind.

Oo, look, first person! Which I have decided, by the way, I am never going to write fanfiction in again. Too easy to slip out of character.

**----**

They used to call the third floor room 'Widow's Watch'. From there you could look out on the world, in any direction, for miles.

Women whose husbands were out at sea would stand here, watching the ocean, praying to see a ship on the wave-tossed horizon...

And all too often, their loves, their sons and fathers, their **family… **didn't come home.

I know how they feel.

_Sam stared at the Stargate, trying to will it to activate, unaware that her fingers were twisting the hem of her black Tee into knots._

_The dead silence of the briefing room- the entire base- spoke eloquently enough for her._

…come back…


	5. Expectations

**Title:** Expectations

**Rating: **PG

**Summary:** She always rose above what they needed.

**----**

She could do just the bare minimum. They wouldn't complain or mind- after all she had done, taking a break was they expected of her. But she never did. She worked herself into exhaustion, spending countless sleepless nights in her lab, always working.

And over time they had come to expect the very best from her.

Therefore it came as a surprise when she threw down the stack of papers, snarled, and glared at them in the way only she could.

"Go to Hell!"

With that, the blonde Major turned on the ball of her foot and stalked off, leaving her team speechless.

But they realized a moment later that they should have expected this, too, of her, and that sometimes she could only be human.

So they let her go.

And when the next day she showed up, looking unabashed and well rested, they greeted her with respect and let it be.

Because she'd always go beyond their expectations, no matter what they asked of her.


	6. Scarred

**Title: **Scarred

**Rating: **G

**Summary: **It is the nightmare that haunted her; it is what she can't forget...

----

Every mission leaves scars; it's just that not all of them are so very visible or painful. And some of them take a long time to heal. 

Alone in her bed, Sam stared at her wall. Without the presence of her teammates, she had to grasp at the faint comfort offered by her bedside lamp.

Because the darkness promised pain…


	7. Originally

**Title: **Originally  
**Rating: **PG-13 for language  
**Summary: **Reality is cruel.

----

Geniuses aren't supposed to make mistakes.  
They're supposed to be the ones _fixing_ the mistakes,  
saving the world, being jackass smart.  
Waltzing around like royalty, eating blue jello,  
keeping cool when the universe is crumbling around them,  
sliding in with ease to give a flippant remark before breaking the impossible code, and  
always dependable.  
Not breaking things,  
falling over themselves,  
crying in dark corners,  
_making_ those fucking "oh-shit we're screwed **_again_**" stupid slipups.

But, as Sam has often found, things aren't always as they're supposed to be.


	8. Bury

**Title:** Bury

**Rating:** PG

**Summary: **I don't blame them for what happened.

----

Too many things happened that dark night. The silence, the stillness, the taste of decay that lingered at the back of your throat- bitter. Cold.

And it all happened so fast- no time to think, to speak, only to react.

I don't hate them for what happened. I would have hated them if they _hadn't_ done it.

Because then they would be dead too.

A hasty grave, what was left of my battered body placed without ceremony, without a pause in the damp earth, buried quickly and left.

I would have slowed them down. They never would have made it to the Gate in one piece if they had tried to bring my empty shell back with them.

Too many things happened that dark night. The tears, the pain, the taste of salt that was too bitter to swallow- silent. Cold.

And it all happened so fast- no time to stop, to cry, only to run.

I don't hate them for what happened.

And I pray that they don't hate themselves either.

--

_They laid her dog tags on the flag before the seventh chevron engaged, and the last traces of Major Samantha Carter, killed in the line of duty, buried on a planet whose address was burned deep into the minds of SG-1… vanished. _

**Gone, but not forgotten.**


	9. Simplicity

**Title: **Simplicity 

**Rating:** G

**Summary: **The women of Cheyenne Mountain find a new weapon to use.

----

**French Manicure:** $23.87

**Emergency Call from the SGC:** 12 minutes

**Taxi Ride to Cheyenne:** $7.60

**Discovering the Wonders Reinforced Keratin Works on Enemy Faces:** Priceless.

That was the general consensus, at least among the _female_ part of the staff. The men, for their own safety, learned to tread carefully amidst painted fingernails.

And, being the SGC, there was even a code.

Team number, Air Force Ranks, mood, time until a birthday or next mission…

It wasn't uncommon to see 'the gals' sharing blood-red nail polish and putting the final touches on their specialized weapons.

Oh, the _beauty _of it all…


End file.
